


drip

by Relvich



Series: winter is only desolate when it's yours [3]
Category: FanganAcademy Discord Roleplay
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Draconic Language, Drip AU, Fangan Ronpa: Fangan Academy, Gen, Memory Loss, Memory Magic, Prose Poem, Repression, because im baby?, i'm sure this time, kythea pov again, this one is very fun to read aloud, uhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:12:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23465206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Relvich/pseuds/Relvich
Summary: it's time she fixed the faucet.
Relationships: Kythea Frostfang/Kage Miyako (Fangan Academy)
Series: winter is only desolate when it's yours [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1688005
Kudos: 3
Collections: Round 1: Fantasy on the Demiplane





	drip

drip

that faucet’s been leaky since she’s been alive, the one she stares at now as she hides in the girl’s restroom from her shadow.

drop

what was it like to be annoyed by that? she can almost taste it on her lips, but it falls flat, grey, a void, static.

drip, she is reaching into an empty vessel with hands too skeletal to scoop anything out only to be confronted by a pane of glass so like ice that _maybe_ she could change it but it’s _not_ and it’s _not cold enough and it’s_ not _and it’s there to stay and-_

drop.

she put it there.

drip. it’s better this way, watching her emotions swirl from a distance, notfeelingnevertouching, an aquarium built for her demons and angels flooded by this gods.

damned.

faucet.

she’d laugh if she could,

she can’t.

funny, there are holes and fractures in her everywhere and this is when she is finally able to keep herself

contained; emotions not running over into her words and her hands and her heart when she speaks, if she _can_ speak anymore, it is entirely possible she cut that part off too when-

heh, when she tightened up her

pipes.

drip.

drop.

drip, miyako’s here, ding dong, drip drop, the witch she loves and hates and is _terrified of_ stops in front of her and she.

feels.

nothing, only watches the deepsea squid of her fury and lovelust and ~~hope~~ and fear as it dances and rages and agitates water no longer attached to her.

《 _Oh surprise-relief, foundsafeokay, heart sings for it, why, worry-sound; safefoundihaveyou._ 》

static, cotton pulled over her eyes and ears and heart and throat. she doesn’t hear her except she does, growls and snaps and whines that no longer sound like

anything, to her, and suddenly she understands how people thought her beautiful symphony of a language was the speech of beasts, nonsensical, and is this the point where she starts panicking? it feels vaguely like it should be, like she has a map of proper reactions but now her compass points

nowhere, needle ripped from its center, will it ever spin again?

~~can she even panic anymore?~~

the answer is no but apparently the stall between words has left the ghost-girl (isn’t that _her_ now?), leaves her…

something. her eyes tighten around the edges and her mouth twists in an ugly line and she wonders how she ever loved her.

《 _Ky. Iceshine, picksoul._ Frostfang?》

there is a map of what she should be doing. drip. drop. look her in the eye.

she opens her mouth.

《Ị̶̅͘ ̴͖̓̃c̶̨̟͔̍̀̒̀̃a̸͎̻̻̝͖̿̄̐̆͝n̵̫̱̮͂͊̚n̷̒͊ͅọ̶̡̞͙̥̐͗̈́t̷͚̜̮̃̒ ̷̛̯͉̻̊̈H̶̛̼͍͎̎͊̋ë̴̤̦́a̶͚̭̝͒͒̅̾ŗ̶̯̳̼̓ͅ ̵̨̝͔̩͊̒̌̆y̵̡͓̰͍͓͑o̷̘̝̽̾̌ù̶͉̲͐̇.》

even to her own ears she sounds like nails on chalkboard and her shadow physically recoils and makes a noise in her mouth like a rush of air inward and still kythea stares. blankly. watches.

“Oh gods. Oh, oh no.”

drip.

“Did I take too much?”

drop.

“Are you even still… here?”

drip.

“Ky, please say something.”

drop drop drop, three staccato notes hit the drain of the sink, a patter of syllables that mean nothing and are nothing and that is where kythea _is._ syllables and actions and words and sounds that mean nothing, but then _other_ languages had always been detached from the waters.

“i do not hate you.”

“Wh- what?”

“i do not love you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“i do not care.”

“...”

her eyes go back to the sink, to its flow of little artificial raindrops ~~is that what she is now? she is worse than _Meniria_ ever was,~~

“i fixed the faucet.”

drip.

drop.

drip.

**Author's Note:**

> zalgo reads "I cannot Hear you."


End file.
